How To Ruin a Chicken Pot Pie
by YenGirl
Summary: Kaname is hungry for chicken pot pie and for Zero. He might be hopeless in the kitchen but he's pretty good at getting what he wants. KxZ lemon. COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1: The Idea

**Author Notes:** Hello to everyone! I'm just about drowning in angst (from Hold Me Now) and drama (from My Tribute to JD's The Marriage Stone) so here's some fluffy humour to balance it out. It's a short and fun three parter about Kaname and Zero where their relationship is more similar to my Taking the Next Step story instead of Hold Me Now.

It will feature a KxZ lemon because I feel I owe Kaname after writing HMN, LOL. This is my first attempt in writing in first person style, Kaname's POV. Hope you enjoy the silliness and don't forget to let me know :D

**Summary:** Kaname is hungry for chicken pot pie and for Zero. He might be hopeless in the kitchen but he's pretty good at getting what he wants. KxZ lemon.

**Rating:** 'M'

**Disclaimer:** Vampire Knight could only and does belong to the great Matsuri Hino.

- Story Start -

I have no idea what prompted me to do this experiment. Well, doing it is fine. Enjoyable in fact, as far as I can tell. What I mean is I have no idea why the hell am I writing it down. For documentation, you say? Well... OK. Just in case I forget some day and need to refer to my notes. Hah. I chuckle at that. How on earth could I forget anything? I'm a pureblood! My memory is second to none. Besides, the subject I'm going to use for this ah, experiment, ensures I won't be forgetting anytime soon.

It's Zero, you see. Well, of _course_ it's Zero, who else would it be? I roll my eyes. Who else would I use – uh, I mean ask? Not that I'm asking. He'll say no and then the experiment won't happen and I won't have anything to write down. So nope, no asking. Just take, Kaname, like you always do. I give a devious chuckle and conveniently nudge aside the times when I give instead of take. I love those times too, don't get me wrong. But now, I intend to take.

Oh yes.

All right. Let's go into my enormous, gleaming kitchen (where I can never find anything except the tea set) and see if I've got everything I need. I'm sure I can find them if I really want to. Right. Notepad and pen at the ready? Check. Easy Chicken Recipes book placed on the counter and opened at Chicken Pot Pie on page twenty three? It looks really good. Check. Ingredients for said pie? I run through the list of items and wander over to the big, softly humming and strangely intimidating refrigerator in the corner. I pull open the double doors. Chicken, chicken. That is the main ingredient listed in the recipe and this is Chicken Pot - damn. Where's the chicken? I blink and adjust my mental image of a clucking hen to what it must look like after being slaughtered and de-feathered. I grab a freezer bag and peer at it. Is this chicken? It must be. I press the bag lightly with a thumb. It doesn't squawk but it's white meat so it must be. Ooh look, a tub of double chocolate ice cream! Zero must have bought it yesterday when he went shopping. I'll just have a - no. Focus, Kaname! Experiment, remember? Experiment first and enjoyment later. Business before pleasure. But not this time, I singsong to myself, directing a devious chuckle at the frozen tub in my hand. This time, it's experiment _and_ enjoyment at the same time.

Oh yes.

I regretfully put back the ice cream, making a mental note to devour it later. Main course before dessert. Hunter before ice cream. OK, what else do I need? The recipe said frozen peas. Uhm. I peer into the freezer again, ignoring the siren call of the double chocolate ice cream. I don't see any peas. They should be green, right? Oh well, I'm sure Zero has everything he needs. He promised to make me the pie today and he went shopping yesterday. Zero never forgets his promise. Never.

Oh, speak of my dear hunter, that's him approaching the kitchen now. I quickly close the fridge and replace the predatory smile on my face with a pleasantly innocent one instead. Zero's just finished his shower after returning from a successful HA mission. He's always successful. He's good at what he does. He'll be a bit tired now after taking down three renegade Es. But he'll be clean and dressed in his running shorts and one of those ridiculously old and torn T-shirts that no self-respecting lover of a pureblood would ever be caught dead in. But I understand they're comfortable. Well yes, actually, they are. I've worn them before. In fact, I'm wearing one now. Oops.

Anyhow, here he is and I'm pretty sure my innocent smile has gone all goofy. Hardly the correct expression for a pureblood to have, but perfectly respectable for one who's madly in love with a certain silver haired hunter like I am. Never mind. If nothing else, my smile matches the T-shirt I have on.

Zero is... I sigh as he flashes me his special half smile. He's gorgeous. But more than that, he's caring and honest and not above giving me a smack upside the head whenever he thinks I'm too full of myself or when he doesn't agree with what I've said or done. I've no idea how many of those I've taken now. Too many to count. Not that I can't, being a pureblood and all, but I'd rather save my brain cells for more constructive things. Like how to keep my smile innocent and stop my fangs from showing themselves. One look at that damp silver hair sticking up all over the place, one sniff of that freshly washed neck and I'm putty. Red-eyed-and-sharpened-fangs putty. Damn.

"Hello, Kaname, what're you doing in the kitchen?" he asks. I walk over to him, forgetting – almost – about chicken parts, chocolate ice cream and missing peas. We kiss and I almost forget my own name. Zero tastes divine. He always does. He says I sometimes taste of tea or coffee or ice cream or his – well, that depends on what I've just done. But Zero always tastes of himself no matter what he's eaten or drunk. Which is good because I'd rather taste him than myself when we kiss.

He teases me about wearing one of his T-shirts when I have a whole slew of branded ones in my wardrobe, some still wrapped in plastic. I mouth his ear and murmur about how I have to make do with sliding inside my lover's clothes when he's not around for me to slide into. The ear I'm mouthing turns a beautiful shade of pink exactly two seconds later. I resist the urge to pierce the blood rich earlobe with a fang. Instead, I lick at the little silver skull dangling off of it and chuckle at the gasp that ensues. Zero melts in my arms and rightly so, but he never surrenders one hundred percent. And I'm glad.

Over my shoulder, he spies the open cookbook on the counter and pulls back a little. He's got good timing, I'll give him that – my right index finger is just half an inch shy of his left nipple. It's already puckered. I conceal my rising frustration as best I can. Well, it's not easy to press down something else that's rising fast, but I try my best. Not that Zero notices. He squirms out of my arms and gravitates towards that damned cookery book like it's the Grail or something. And no, I'm not pouting. I was the one who'd put that damned book there.

Take a deep breath, Kaname. Chicken pot pie experiment, remember? Right. Another deep breath and another innocent smile. Yes, I really feel like eating that pie. Do we have all the ingredients, Zero? I ask. He smiles when I bat my eyelashes shamelessly at him. Oh. He's smiling because I said 'we' when he and I and that smug cookbook know he'll be doing all the work. But not this time, Zero baby. I'm going to help you this time. He frowns when he sees how devious my smile has become. I think he's wondering why I haven't jumped him yet. I chuckle quietly to myself. Good things come to those who wait. And one can have one's hunter and eat pot pie too. Doesn't quite rhyme without 'cake' but I'm sure you know what I mean.

I walk up behind Zero and put a pleasantly interested look on my face. He's still wearing that charmingly wary frown on his face as he asks if I'm hungry. Oh yes, Zero. I _am_ hungry. Very. But I just say yes, I'm waiting for my chicken pot pie. He laughs and nudges my shoulder with his as he walks past to go to the fridge. I turn around and admire his lithe figure and long legs. I love your cooking, Zero. And I love you.

He smiles when I say that aloud. Then he blushes and says the same thing back to me - the second sentence, not the first - before rummaging in the freezer. Hah. I was right. Chicken is needed in chicken pot pie and he took out the same bag I did! Well, it was the only pack of meat in there. Oh, I didn't know that other bag contained peas. I can't see through coloured plastic, you know. I'm a pureblood, not Superman. But I know something my dear Zero doesn't and that, of course, is the experiment I'm about to perform. I think I shall call it How To Ruin a Chicken Pot Pie.

In the best possible way, of course.

- Chapter End -


	2. Chapter 2: The Preparation

**Author Notes:** Thank you for your reviews! *grins* Here's the next chapter, enjoy more silliness from Kaname's POV!

- Chapter Start -

I pick up my pen and notepad as Zero places the ingredients on the counter. When he frowns suspiciously at the notepad, I assure him it's just to make notes. I don't specify what type of notes. A pureblood never gives away all his secrets.

The pie crust comes first. Right. I pen a cute little doodle of a pie with frilly edges and a whorl of steam rising from it. Zero measures out some white powder into a mixing bowl and adds small cubes of butter. Interesting. He puts a cup of ice water beside the bowl and then goes to the sink to wash his hands. When he comes back, he puts his hands in the - oh. Zero is a very hands on type of person. I love his hands. I love how gently they cup my face when I have a bad day at the office. I love how sensuously they sweep up and down my back when I'm buried deep inside him. I even love how firmly they rest on my shoulders when he starts one of his 'Now look here, Kaname' lectures.

"Are you jotting this down?" he asks absently. I blink and quickly add a doodle of a heart next to the pie. Yes, I am, I reply and take a peek at him. It looks like he's rubbing the little cubes of butter into the uhm - I glance at the cookbook - flour, using - another quick glance - 'quick and light' motions of his fingers. I love Zero's fingers, by the way. I love how carefully they massage my scalp when I've got a headache from dealing with incompetent managers. I love how teasingly they trace the line of my spine when we move together on the bed. I'll definitely love it if he rubs my nipples with that same quick and light motions. I quickly look away and take a deep breath otherwise my notebook won't have anything except two doodles in it. Very cute ones, true, but hardly useful. Deep breaths, Kaname. Inhale. Exhale. Again. OK. Better now.

Oh, I remember this scene from a movie I once saw. A man, a woman and a pottery wheel. Messy, clay covered hands that become miraculously clean once they moved onto more interesting activities. I'm sure you know which movie that was. Clay, pastry dough - same principle. My devious grin shows itself again as I put down my pen and notepad and then slide up behind Zero.

That cute little frown is still sitting pretty between his eyebrows when he glances over his shoulder.

"Kaname, I've got this," he begins patiently. "Why don't you... unh -" I exhale behind his right ear and send the little silver skull swinging. No, _I've_ got this one, Zero. I slide my fingers between his, hoping that the squishy looking mixture isn't too hard to get out from under my nails. I don't want to trail buttery crumbs all over my laptop keyboard later and there's that important merger agreement to sign tomorrow in front of the press. I've been working to get that deal finalised for months. But I gamely continue. Never let it be said that Kaname's afraid to get his hands dirty.

"Kaname..." There's a tinge of exasperation in my dear Zero's voice now. I ignore it. It's nowhere near the 'Stop right now or you're sleeping on the couch' level. It's just starting and therefore completely safe to ignore. That's one of the good things about Zero. He always gives ample warning when he's getting angry. You can choose to either duck out of the line of fire, or gauge how much leeway you have before all hell breaks loose. I've got it honed down to a fine art by now. I also know that my couch is very comfortable. I mouth his ear again and slide my fingertips very lightly across the sensitive webbing between his fingers.

"I t-thought you said you're hungr – never mind."

The quiver in Zero's voice sets my body tingling. He's rolling his eyes too, I can almost hear them whirring in their sockets. I know my beloved hunter. He squares his shoulders next – yup, saw that coming. He shakes his head - yup, that's always the next thing - and soldiers on. So do I. I'm trying hard not to let the icky mess coating our fingers squick me. Luckily, the lovely shivers going up and down Zero's body prove a welcome distraction. I am utterly fascinated with the scent of him, especially his neck. I am completely in love with this person standing in the circle of my arms. He feels and smells divine, especially this – this tiny space just below his earlobe. I taste it. Better than any chicken pot pie any day, hot or cold.

"Mmm, K-Kaname..." A tiny hitch in his breath makes me smile. Just carry on, Zero. You're doing fine, I purr. And I'm doing even better, I add smugly to myself, because I'm pressed up close enough that I can feel his legs trembling against mine. I'm not sure if it's because I'm licking his neck or because I'm still caressing his fingers or because I'm pressing my erection against his buttocks. It's a perfect combination of all three if I do say so myself. I should probably make a note of this. Damn. My fingers are all buttery. Ah well, I'll just tuck this little tidbit in my super memory for now.

Those firm round cheeks suddenly morph into buns of steel. I freeze and am almost faint with relief that my lower half is still inside my tailored slacks. Otherwise, an important - very important - part of me would probably be flattened. For good. As I turn pale at the prospect, Zero twists his hands upwards. Eight buttery fingers and two buttery thumbs close warningly around my wrists.

"Kaname, if you're hungry for something else, just tell me, OK? I don't want to end up with anymore kitchen mishaps," he warns. A perfectly credible warning if he'd combined it with a pissed off glare and Bloody Rose cocked and ready in his hand. Forgive me, my dear Zero. It's not _quite_ as credible when Bloody Rose is nowhere in sight and your back is turned towards me so that I can't see that fierce but extremely cute glare you're giving the bowl. Besides, I know that you know that I know that you're very much aware of what's pressing up against those deliciously taut buns of yours.

"I'm hungry," I whisper with as much contrition as I can muster. "And I'll make sure nothing gets smashed this time, I promise."

I'm quite sure I can experiment and still retain my super fast pureblood reflexes at the same time. And if I can't, I'd better find out right now than wait for a life threatening situation, right? Zero doesn't say anything more and neither do I. We finish making the pastry dough accompanied by some delightful squirming from my beloved. He's busy rubbing the mixture. I'm busy rubbing him against the counter edge. We make a pretty good team, I think.

Zero adds the ice water to the mix with a shaky hand and kneads it into a golden ball. I wonder if muttered, breathless sounding swear words are part of the preparation. He grouses that the pastry will turn out hard as a rock on account of too much heat generated from too much rubbing. Sounds perfectly logical (and arousing) to me except for that last little bit. I kiss his neck tenderly and tell him there's no such thing as too much rubbing. He counters that his nipples are now pink, swollen and buttery. He adds that another part of him is bruised from prolonged and repeated contact with the counter edge. I surreptitiously extract my greasy hands from under his T-shirt, kiss his neck again and point out that I have zipper burns on my tenders, but I'm not complaining.

Zero sputters and blushes, but he still manages to line two pie pans expertly with half the pasty dough. He squirms out of my arms before I manage to butter or rub him anywhere else. Damn. Off he trots to the sink and I follow. Any hopes of repeating the sliding fingers thing with hand soap are washed down the drain when Zero employs incredible speed to get his hands clean. Before I can even rinse my hands, he's already chopping up carrot, potato and uhm... celery. At least, that's what I think those long green stalks are. He works fast. But the pie is far from done. I grin deviously at the hand soap. Nice apple scent. I dry my hands on the hand towel. Cute flower motif.

I turn around to see Zero picking up an onion. I sigh and stay a discreet distance away since pureblood noses are extremely sensitive to pungent aromas. Slightly miffed, I take the opportunity to jot down the latest findings of my experiment. A picture of two hands with fingers intertwined appear below the pie. Unfortunately, they look like a bunch of matchsticks. So _not_ an accurate representation of my slender, long and elegant fingers nor of Zero's strong and skillful ones.

"Making another note?" he asks absently, blinking away the onion vapours. I nod and dutifully pen a plump heart next to the doodle of mutilated fingers. I'm careful to breathe through my mouth as Zero chops away. This is why none of the world's best chefs are purebloods. We'd pass out before we even got to sautéing anything.

All right. Zero's now lighting the stove and placing a pan over the flames. Time for another note. This time, I manage a perfectly lovely doodle of a tiny pan with a cute little flame beneath it. I also draw a heart without being prompted because everything Zero does for me, he does with love. It makes me feel guilty about what I'm going to do next, but I persevere. I have an experiment, remember? It's called How to Ruin a Chicken Pot Pie.

In the best possible way. Of course.

- Chapter End -


	3. Chapter 3: The Cooking

**Author Notes:** Hello again and thanks for your reviews! Keep 'em coming :D This is Part 3 of more silly fun. One final part to go...

- Chapter Start -

Time for the next step of my experiment. I put the notebook down, breathe in through my mouth and sidle up behind Zero again. Then I realise I can't even sniff his neck now. Never mind, I'll get round to sniffing every part of him later. Zero adds a knob of butter to the pan. I manage a tight lipped but still predatory smile, all the while holding my breath. No easy feat when your fangs are already out.

Do you _have_ to stand so close, Zero frowns at me. Of course, I purr into his ear. How else will I learn? Damn. Holding one's breath makes one sound like they have a head cold instead of sexy. I slide my arms around his waist from the back and let out a dignified gasp of pain as my hand accidentally touches the side of the hot pan. Zero jumps and steps back, one heel coming down smartly on three of my bare toes. Toes number two, three and four on my right foot. I somehow manage a smile amidst the three simultaneous sunbursts of pain. But I forgive Zero. I know he loves my toes. He's certainly played with them often enough.

Zero curses and apologises, sounding both guilty and vexed. I make soothing noises while ignoring my trodden on tosies. Did you have to squeal like a girl, he hisses at me next. I feel my eyes watering. Stupid onions. After all, I am a pureblood and a pureblood never cries. Never. Unless he gets his heart ripped out by an enemy. Or burns his hand on a hot pan. Or gives himself a razor nick. Or a paper cut. But other than that, _never_. Purebloods have an extremely high threshold of pain, I'll have you know.

Here, let me see your hand, Zero says in a voice now oozing with concern. My eyes water again. Dratted onions. I respond with a dignified sniffle and quickly offer my grievously injured hand before the faint redness disappears entirely. Accelerated pureblood healing is overrated on occasions. But Zero still kisses the spot and my tightlipped smile turns goofy. I love him so much! The quick flick of his tongue on my newly healed skin sends shivers through me. I exhale in bliss and almost gag on the inhale when Zero adds chopped onion to the bubbling butter.

I move swiftly and gracefully back to the counter, almost upending the two kitchen stools on the way and further bruising the same three toes. Quickly, I blot streaming eyes and nose on a square of kitchen paper - the former caused by my toes, the latter by the onions - all the while pretending an avid interest in the cookbook. I blink several times before the tiny, blurry black ants crawling on the page morph into legible words.

When I look up, Zero is giving me the same tenderly exasperated look he always gives when I do something inordinately, uhm... impulsive. After he's cooled down. Like the time I switched his herbal shampoo with the extra strong rose scented one Aido gave me. Zero had a bad cold, you see. I thought the overpowering fragrance would help clear his sinuses in the hot shower steam. When he returned from the HA meeting he was rushing for, he whapped me multiple times upside the head. One for each snicker directed at him. Even the silent ones. I didn't know the HA had so many hunters on their payroll. I'd have forgotten my name if I weren't a pureblood. As it was, I merely blinked and waited for my eyes to uncross themselves. I then graciously offered to obliterate the whole lot of inconsiderate snicker-ers. Zero glared at me and said that would mean he would be out hunting Es every night, being the only hunter left. He would then be too tired for any other... activities. I instantly and magnanimously forgave those hunters and allowed them to live.

Suddenly, I realise I can breathe through my nose again! Zero must have added the other chopped ingredients to the pan. I quickly move up behind him again. He's pouring in a bowlful of golden liquid. It looks like chicken broth. I curl my long and elegant fingers around the hem of his T-shirt. The moment he puts down the bowl, I whip the T-shirt right off of his head. He's just as fast. Before the garment lands in the kitchen sink, he's shutting off the burner and spinning around to glare at me. A real glare this time. It's hot enough to make the skin on my face sizzle.

Oops. My devious grin is still stretching my lips. His glare intensifies. I feel the skin on my nose start to peel. His glare drops to my mouth and intensifies even more. I feel my lips start to blister. And then one of my fangs gives a twinge. It sort of... feelsh loosh now. Oh no! I can't afford to losh a fang! I imagine myshelf shailing into my offish tomorrow and flashing everyone a lone fang shmile.

I shudder in horror.

Besides, I have that agreement to sign tomorrow! Oh no. No, no, no! Well, of course I can't grow a new fang in twelve hours - what do you think I am, a pureblood? Now I can't even think straight. All right, so I am a pureblood and I can grow a fang, but it takes about two weeks. Never mind. Purebloods are nothing if not resourceful. I'll just have to get a replacement fang. Yes, that's it. I'll go to one of those garish Hollywood Costumes stores and buy myself a pair. But they'll be plastic, tacky, yellow, inelegant and just plain gross! And I'll never be able to fit one in properly.

In fact, I just know it's going to fall out onto the agreement document. Right at the moment when I'm signing it and all the flashbulbs are going off. I'll have to go into hiding. The newspapers both local and abroad will have a field day about how Kaname Kuran - winner of GQ's Most Elegant Bachelor for three years running and astute business tycoon - apparently dressed up as Count Dracula during the recent Halloween Day and accidentally left one of his fangs in. For three weeks. So much for Armani, a fabulous smile and a shrewd brain.

I'm showwy, I lisp, completely awash in self pity brought on by a terrific imagination. Unfortunately, Zero's still glaring at me. It looks like it's gone past the couch level. I'm going to have to sleep outside our apartment door this time. With my plastic dentures. Perhaps Zero will let me have a plastic cup to store them while I sleep. I give another sniffle. The pain is worse than a razor nick. Worse than a paper cut. Much, much worse.

To my relief, the glare actually lets up a bit. Then Zero sighs and folds his arms across his chest. He's hiding those nipples from view. On purpose. I feel a pout coming on and shake my head. No - focus, Kaname. Loosh fang, remember?

What do you want, Kaname, he asks me evenly. The pout wins. I just want to see you bake my dinner, I reply. He sighs again and unfolds his arms. Before I know it, he's grabbing my shoulders and pressing a hard kiss on my lips. Then he turns back to the stove. I hear muttered words of not knowing why he bothers. I've never known why either, really. But my pout disappears. My fang clings to my gum with renewed determination. My stomach growls with hunger. Gratitude and love surge up inside me in a heartwarming, throat tightening tide that almost spills out of my eyes. I decide I can always have Zero later. With the ice cream. I nod to myself.

Zero switches on the fire again and lets the contents of the pan simmer. I take a step back. Then I start to simmer myself as I stare at the back of that tasty looking neck. Below it are two well formed shoulder blades that shift when Zero stirs the contents of the pan. I move my gaze downward and follow the knobs of the graceful spine that segregates his strong back into two perfectly equal parts. I am halfway down his back when he twitches.

Stop staring, he tells me without turning around. Who says I'm staring, I counter. My spine, he replies dryly. That's because you're so _perfect_, I murmur. His ears turn pink. My eyes turn red. My hand moves up to my mouth and then down inside his shorts in the space of a heartbeat. Well, two heartbeats. I am simmering after all. Zero jerks and hisses a curse into the pan as I slide a wet finger between his buttocks.

He groans out my name. I reward him by pushing my finger in. He drops another curse into the pan and bends forward a little. I push my finger right in, making him curse a third time. As this rate, we'll be making Naughty Chicken Pot Pie. I suck the sensitive area below his earlobe. He pushes his hips further back and my finger goes in knuckle deep. Zero shudders and continues stirring with a shaky hand, curses falling unheeded into the pan as I pleasure him. He doesn't notice when I summon the lube from our bedside drawer. But he groans and quickly clicks off the burner when I add another slickened finger.

I confess I have no idea how long one must stir the pot pie filling. All I know is that Zero is stirring it like there is no tomorrow while I stretch and pleasure him, living for every moan and shuddering gasp that fall from his lips. The pan must be overflowing by now. I don't know. I can't think. I'm supposed to be doing an experiment, the one where I - damn, I can't remember. But I'm sure you can.

In the best possible, uhm, I don't know that either. You tell me.

- Chapter End -


	4. Chapter 4: The Eating

**Author Notes: **Hello! Final chapter up as promised. Hope you've enjoyed it and don't forget to let me know, OK? :D

A very Happy Birthday to **Moonlight and Tangerines!**

- Chapter Start -

Apparently, Zero can still think. The instant he hears the clink of my belt buckle, he reaches behind and grabs my hand. Kaname, stop that _right now_ or I upend the pan over your head, he pants. I hesitate. Then I pout. Finally, I take a deep breath and withdraw my fingers as _slowly_ as I can, feeling him shudder all the way. When they're finally out, Zero takes three deep breaths and hitches up his slipping shorts. Then he spins around to glare at me.

You're insatiable, he growls. He's all burning eyes, full out fangs, red lips and heaving chest. I stare at him in mute adoration, knowing I'm just moments away from claiming him. He knows that too. Zero, I want you, I manage to say. He nods, his eyes burning brighter.

Five more minutes, Kaname, he promises. Five minutes, I echo in dismay. I don't know if I can wait five _seconds_. He narrows those gorgeously fiery eyes at me. Five minutes, I parrot obediently. He nods approvingly and turns back to the stove. I blink and swallow. Then I turn around and make my way back to the pie shells on the counter. Walking in a straight line right now seems... difficult so I let a certain part of me point the way, so to speak.

Five minutes. _Five_ minutes. Five _minutes_.

I glance over my shoulder. Zero stares at the pan for a full five seconds as if he's forgotten what to do next. Then he lifts the pan. With both hands. I blink. Are those muscular arms shaking?

Four minutes and fifty seconds.

I can do this, I tell myself. Zero walks over to me, frowning deeply in concentration. He's not walking in a straight line either. But he too has something to point the way and it's aimed right at me. I swallow and lock my knees to keep from lunging at him. He holds the steaming pan over the first pie shell and pauses, carefully avoiding my gaze. Yes, his arms are definitely shaking.

Four minutes and forty seconds.

I can wait. A pureblood is nothing if not patient. Zero tips the pan slowly, still frowning fiercely. A stream of creamy filling pours into the shell.

Four minutes and thirty five seconds.

I can wait. Just keep looking at that pie filling, Kaname. It smells good, doesn't it? Yes, it does. It's hot, it's savoury and it's tight. I blink. Oh, that's Zero. Well, the pie is gorgeous too. I glance up at Zero's side profile. His frown has escalated to a scowl. I lick my lips.

Four minutes and thirty seconds.

I force my gaze back to the filled pie shell, but it soon darts up again. Zero's pale chest is still heaving, his buttered nipples shiny and puckered. I lick my lips again. My gaze drops a little lower. Zero's stomach muscles are tightly clenched. He moves the pan over to the other pie shell and tips it again.

Four minutes and twenty seconds.

My chest is heaving too. I drop my gaze still further. A growl escapes my throat. Zero's shorts are still tented. They're also pulsing. I think I can burn them right off him if I stare hard enough. I try my best. The pulsing increases rapidly, but the shorts remain intact. Damn.

Four minutes and ten seconds.

I don't think I can - no! Focus, Kaname, you can do it! The second pie shell is filled. Finally. Zero makes a tiny noise in his throat. I think he agrees. He turns towards me to get a spoon from the cutlery holder. I'm now looking - gazing - staring - _salivating _at the gorgeous shift of muscles in his flat, defined stomach. Right in the middle of that taut expanse sits the loveliest of innies. It tastes just like that tiny spot beneath its owner's earlobes Trust me, it does. I think my tongue is hanging out.

Four minutes exactly. That's it. The five minutes are up. Ready or not, Zero, here I come. And you're coming with me.

Yes, I meant it _that_ way.

I snatch the empty pan from Zero with one hand and tear off his shorts with the other. Wait, he gasps. Can't, I gasp back. Just a moment, he grits out. No, I grit back. Pies - oven - first, he insists eloquently. No - can't - now, I return just as articulately. I rub myself against his back, up and down, side to side. He groans. I suck at his neck. He growls. I scrape my fangs over his neck. He slaps one slice of pastry over the first pie to cover it. I pinch his nipples. He almost slams the last slice of pastry over the other pie. I thrust my tongue right into his ear. Both pies almost land on the floor.

Insatiable twit, Zero gasps, grimly holding onto the tray. I love you too, I mumble to the first vertebrae of his spine. I whip off my belt and push my trousers down to my ankles. No underwear - purebloods plan in advance. I press up against him. Pies first, Zero moans. Later, I murmur adoringly to his third vertebrae, sliding my hips up and down. Impatient twit, he gasps. I love you, I ardently inform his sixth vertebrae. The oven's nearby, he pleads. Too far, I mumble against his tenth - no, twelve - no, fifteenth vertebrae. You're sleeping on the couch, he warns. With you, I say smugly.

Zero growls and wrenches himself away. I follow. He moves towards the oven inch by determined inch, gripping the baking tray in his fists and dragging along a just as determined pureblood hanging from his waist. He reaches the oven. I groan in protest and nip his shoulder blade. He hisses and bends forward, using his fangs to pull open the oven door. Good thing he doesn't have any important documents to sign tomorrow. I fall onto my knees, dragging my fangs down his spine. He curses. I then drag my fangs all over one taut buttock. It flexes. Zero whimpers, but manages to thrust the tray into the oven. I move over to his other buttock. It flexes as well, but he succeeds in slamming the oven door shut. Not to be outdone, I part his buttocks with both hands. Zero chokes and twists the temperature knob. I use my tongue on him. The knob almost comes off in his hand.

So Zero wins. I don't care. Struggling up to my feet, I place his hands on the edge of the counter. He grips it and spreads his legs obligingly, bending forward. I push myself in. One inch. Pause. A soft curse spills out. Another inch. Pause again. He draws in a shuddering breath. One more inch. Pause. Zero groans. I push in the rest of the way. He pushes back. We both stop when I can't go in anymore. He's panting hard, his breath fogging up the glass door of the oven. I'm panting just as hard, my mouth stuck to his shoulder.

Move, he growls. But you're still sleeping on the couch, he adds. I grin and obey. He grips the countertop and moans my name. I thrust into him, deeper and faster each time, fisting him just as fast. He cries out and releases onto the oven door as I explode inside him. It's over a lot faster than usual.

I can't think why.

One minute of heavy panting later, I slide out, turn Zero around and sit him on the counter. He wraps his knees around my waist and I sink into him again. He wraps his arms around my neck, mine go around his back. We move and buck and strain until we erupt in each other's arms again. This time, five minutes pass as we slowly drift in bliss. We kiss. Then I carry him over to the table with our bodies still joined and his legs around my waist. I sit on one of the kitchen stools, lean back against the table and hold him as he rides me hard.

When we finally finish, we can't even speak. A good ten minutes pass with Zero resting on my chest and my chin resting on his head.

Zero finally murmurs that the pies are done. How do you know, I mumble. The oven gives off a smug 'ping' of completion. Zero lifts his head and smiles at me. Because I can smell it, he says. I don't smell anything but you, I say. He's now all soft eyes, pink flush and radiant glow. He looks gorgeous. I hope he's forgotten about the couch thing. I kiss him hopefully. You're an insatiable twit, he grumbles against my mouth. I know, I sigh back. I think he's forgotten. Good.

Zero climbs off of me with a groan. Then he makes a face and runs for the kitchen paper. We use five minutes and half a roll of kitchen paper to clean up ourselves, the oven door, the countertop, the kitchen stool and certain parts of the floor. We use another five minutes to shower. Only five because we use separate bathrooms. Zero's idea, not mine.

We finally sit down to hot coffee and warm, lopsided chicken pot pies. I cut into the pastry and finds it takes quite a bit of effort before it breaks. I remember the too much rubbing episode and bite my lip. The savoury filling sloshes out onto my plate. I can't even see the chicken meat anywhere. I remember the overly long simmering episode and bite my lip again.

How's the pie, Zero asks quietly. I tell him it's delicious. He glares at me. We finish eating our pies in silence. I vow never to interfere with his cooking ever again. I even apologise. He shrugs and stacks our plates together. When he stands up and winces, I take the plates out of his hands and pull him onto my lap. He doesn't argue this time, but nuzzles into my neck and bites down. I sigh with bliss and kiss his hair. Then I ask what are we having for dinner tomorrow.

Zero slides his fangs out, glares at me and says we're eating out. I smile and pull his head down to my neck again. He takes some more and licks my neck tenderly. When he asks if I want to watch TV, I say of course. He goes to the fridge and brings out the double chocolate ice cream. I beam at him and follow him out of the kitchen. Then I nip back to retrieve my notebook which I carefully lock away in my study.

So. Is the experiment a success? Yes. The pies are ruined. But I know better now. Zero loves cooking and he loves me. I love his cooking and I love him. So that's it. End of story.

Zero calls out my name. I go to the living room and join him on the couch. I'm in love with the most wonderful hunter in the whole wide world and no, the tub of double chocolate ice cream in his hand has nothing do to with it. I give him a goofy grin and he feeds me a spoonful of icy cold, chocolatey goodness. I lean against him and wonder what it would taste like served on his nipples. After all, there's no preparation or cooking involved, is there?

I grin deviously to myself. Sometimes, a pureblood never learns his lesson.

- Story End -


End file.
